Circumstantially Impossible
by reallyhatebananas
Summary: Think of a memory. A happy memory. ::Tom is not like the other children:: One-shot.


**A/N: **Tom Riddle. Dumbledore's biggest mistake-and, ironically enough, the one he never owns up to. Poor kid. I've always felt bad for him... so, enjoy! Watch out for vague mentions of violence near the end.

**Update: **Ok... I feel stupid. My very first HP fic and I forgot the disclaimer. Give it a day or two and the cops will be knocking at my door. *rolls eyes* Well, here goes.

**Disclaimer: **I, (INSERT NAME HERE), hereby declare that all recognisable material is not the work of myself but of one J. K. Rowling. Because if I owned Harry Potter, the books would be about Tom Riddle instead.

**O.o.O**

(he's not like other children)

Tom stands in the abandoned classroom, torches casting flickering shadows across his robes. He can't, _won't_, admit to failure, and so early morning hours find him struggling fruitlessly to cast the Patronus Charm. He's always been the best.

He _must _always be the best. If he's not the best, then he is nothing. The world is divided into

(power, and those too weak to seek it)

(and tom riddle is nothing if not powerful)

He completed the first year spells in secret, casting _Accio _and _Lumos_ and _Wingardium Leviosa_ late into the night. He masked the glow from underneath his covers and the one time his levitation charm went wrong, accidently moving Joseph Stein's bed halfway across the room, he feigned complete ignorance, adopting the wide-eyed look that always worked so well at the orphanage.

(filthy muggles)

He's always been the first to get the spells in class, never needing more than a single try. He has _magic_ and he's not afraid to use it, unlike the fools who are so afraid of their own strength, and he will _take _that magic and bind it to his will. Three years since he entered Hogwarts, and Tom Riddle has learned more than nearly all of the sixth years and quite a few of the seventh. He knows every single spell from all the books he could get his hands on. And he's_ nowhere near finished_.

(i can make things move without touching them)

The Patronus Charm is advanced magic, truly difficult, and it's never actually taught at Hogwarts. It's so intensely light that he never would have even come across it in his research, focused as he is on the _dark_ and the _black_ and the _great_. He likely would not have learned about it for many years if it weren't for the _meddling fool_ Dumbledore who mentioned it in passing, perhaps trying to turn Tom's affinity to the light with such a definite spell. He must admit that the professor knows him quite well; obvious as the man's ploy is, Tom still takes the bait. Dumbledore threw down the gauntlet and Tom Riddle has _never _backed down from a challenge.

It matters not that he won't ever actually need the spell, for Tom has forged a sort of alliance with the dementors. They seem to sense that he, too, feeds off others' fear, and besides, he is more powerful than them. As with the snakes, he can control them.

He can control them all.

(they find me, whisper things)

The spell is useless to him but it is still _magic _and as such Tom Riddle must be able to master it, for how else can he truly be the best?

(greatness inspires envy)

So he stays up late into the night, third-year homework long since complete, and struggles to cast this one spell that _just won't work_. This has never happened before, not once.

Tom knew he was special long before he was told. Things _happened _around him, things that made him happy and nobody else. He had to be strong to survive in the brutal atmosphere of the orphanage, where adults turned a blind eye to the violent, dangerous bullying. When Tom was younger, he was one of the bullied. It hurt him at first, but later he grew more or less indifferent to the pain because it taught him things and Tom Riddle valued knowledge.

He learned that no one could be trusted except for himself.

He learned nobody was there for him.

He learned to be _enough_.

(i can make bad things happen to people who are mean to me)

The knowledge helped him grow, and when he was strong enough he fought back. When Peter Gundell cornered him after lessons and snapped his arm he _forced_ him into stillness and watched as each of the bully's fingers broke, one by one, just because Tom wanted them to.

When Ruth Shepherd laughed at him the next day he _made_ her cut her hand on a knife while washing up.

When Billy Stubbs snuck into his room late at night and did _things _to him, promising more pain if he ever told, Tom got so angry that he _willed _the boy's rabbit to string itself up on the rafters, and it happened.

Then he _burned _Ann Deltin's hair just because he could.

(i can make them hurt)

He became powerful, and he became the _best_, something he took pride in before and after he learned that what he did was _magic_. Because no matter its name, it was right and it was _his_.

It's always been his, and until now he's had more control over it than anyone else. Every single aspect of it.

Except for this charm.

(expecto patronum)

He knows how to yank at the flow of the magic, knows how to _feel_ and _use_ the power inside of him. He knows how the incantation should be said. He knows how to put his absolute focus behind the spell.

He knows that his memories are worthless.

The first time he walked into Hogwarts? _Triumph. Satisfaction. _

Buying his wand? _Fulfillment._

Earning points for his house? _He doesn't even care._

(think of a memory)

Tom tries for hours, night after night, until his rage overflows and cracks appear in the floor beneath him. It doesn't matter, though, because no matter his power and control the emotion cannot be faked.

The spell cannot be cast without the emotion.

He cannot cast the spell.

(he has no happy memories)

**O.o.O**


End file.
